Val Mcdermid - Blue Genes

I followed her indoors and aimed for a rocking chair that hadn’t been there the last time I’d visited. The shelves of books, records and tapes looked the same. But she’d replaced the big Klimt with a blue-and-white print from Matisse’s Jazz sequence. It made the room cooler and brighter. ‘I know I’ve got a cheek asking you for help, but I don’t care how much I have to humiliate myself to do the business for my clients.’ I tried for the self-effacing look.

‘Ain’t too proud to beg, huh?’ Maggie said sardonically.

‘I’m hoping you won’t make me. But I am going to have to ask you to promise me one thing.’

‘Which is?’ she asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa, one foot on the seat, the other still on the floor.

‘That you’ll treat what I have to tell you with the same degree of confidence you’d offer to one of your own clients.’

‘If you want confidentiality, you can afford to pay a therapist for it. My clients don’t have that option. But if that’s the price for hearing this tale of yours, consider it paid. Nothing you tell me goes beyond these four walls, unless I think people are going to come to harm if I keep silence. Is that fair enough?’

‘That’ll do me. Did you know a doctor called Sarah Blackstone?’

The way her face closed down gave me the answer. ‘Tell me your tale. Then we’ll see about questions,’ Maggie said, her voice harsh.

Time to rearrange the truth into a well-known phrase or saying. ‘My client and her partner were patients of Dr Blackstone. She was using them as human guinea pigs in an experiment to see if it’s possible to make babies from two women. It is. And my client’s partner is currently a couple of months pregnant.’ Maggie’s attitude had melted like snow on a ceramic hob. She was staring at me with the amazement of a child who’s just had Christmas explained to her. Then she remembered.

‘But Sarah Blackstone’s just been murdered,’ she breathed. ‘Oh my God.’

‘Exactly. Publicly, the police are saying she was killed by a burglar she disturbed. It’s only a matter of time before the words “drug-crazed” start showing up in their press briefings. My client is concerned that they have uncovered what Dr Blackstone was really doing, but they’re keeping quiet about it while they carry out their investigations.’

‘So why are you here?’

Good question. This time, I’d had plenty of time to think about the interview so I had my lies ready. ‘I’m trying to get as much background on Sarah Blackstone as I possibly can. If there was more to her killing than meets the eye, I want to find out who was behind it. That way, I can hand the information to the police on a plate, which might stop any kind of investigation into what Sarah was really up to.’

‘Sounds plausible. But then, you always did,’ Maggie commented. She didn’t appear to be overwhelmed with the desire to help me out.

‘I don’t have any contacts on the lesbian scene this side of the Pennines except you,’ I said. ‘Believe me, if there had been any other way of getting into this, I’d have gone for it. Being here under these circumstances probably thrills me about as much as it does you. But I need help, Maggie. If what Sarah Blackstone was doing gets into the public domain, there’s going to be more than just an outcry. There’s going to be a witch-hunt.’

Maggie wasn’t meeting my eyes. She looked like she was giving the matter serious thought and she didn’t want to be distracted by any more passion from me. Eventually, she glanced across at me and said, ‘I might be able to help you with some aspects of your inquiry.’

‘Did you know Sarah Blackstone?’

Maggie shrugged. ‘Not well. We met through Women’s Aid. I’m involved with the refuge in Leeds as well as the one here. Sarah used to run an informal clinic at the refuge in Leeds. She was also one of the doctors they call out to provide medical evidence when they get emergency admissions of women and children who have been badly beaten. We were both on the management committee up until a couple of years ago when Sarah resigned. She said she didn’t have the time to give it the energy it demanded.’

‘What was she like?’

A smile ghosted on Maggie’s face. ‘She was exhausting. One of those women who’s always full of bounce, never doing anything by halves. Ambitious, clever, committed. She gave up a lot of her time for the causes she believed in. Passionate about the women she dealt with professionally. A great sense of humour. She could be a real clown sometimes.’

‘You make her sound like Mother Teresa.’

Maggie gave a bark of laughter. ‘Sarah Blackstone? God, no. She had the faults to match her virtues. Like every doctor I’ve ever met, she was convinced she knew better than God. She was stubborn, arrogant and sometimes flippant about things that are never funny. And when she got a bee in her bonnet about something, she wouldn’t leave it alone until everybody had agreed to go along with her ideas.’

‘Did you see much of her socially?’

‘A bit. We’d end up at the same parties, barbecues, benefits, you know the sort of thing.’

Only by reputation, thank God. ‘Was she involved with anyone when she died?’ I asked. If Maggie was going to block me, this was where it would start.

‘I don’t think so,’ Maggie said. She appeared to be sincere. ‘The last relationship she was in ended round about the end of last summer. The woman she was seeing, Diana, moved to Exeter to start a new job, and there wasn’t enough between them for the relationship to survive. They’d been knocking around together for the best part of a year, but not in a committed kind of way. There was always something a bit aloof about Sarah, as if she didn’t want to let anyone too close.’

‘Did that include Helen Maitland?’

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s been over for years. How did you hear about Helen and Sarah?’

‘Sarah used Helen’s name as an alias. I wasn’t sure whether the connection between them went deeper than colleagues.’ All perfectly truthful, as far as it went. There really wasn’t any need to tell Maggie that my suspicions had been confirmed by the Land Registry. Before Helen Maitland’s house had been registered in her sole name, it had been jointly owned by Dr Maitland and Dr Sarah Blackstone. I don’t know many people who buy houses with anyone other than their lover.

Maggie’s mouth twisted into a rueful grimace. ‘And I just told you it did, didn’t I?’

‘Well, I had my suspicions,’ I said. ‘What was the score there?’

‘Oh well, in for a penny…Let me see now…It must be six or seven years ago that they first got together. Helen was already in Leeds when Sarah arrived, and it was one of those thunderbolt things. I remember the night they met — it was at a Lesbian Line benefit. Somebody introduced them and they looked at each other like they both had concussion. They moved in together within a couple of weeks, and eventually bought a house together. Then it all fell apart.’

‘Why?’

Maggie squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, like a woman who’s suddenly discovered she’s got a sinus headache. ‘I had a lot on my mind,’ she said quietly. ‘It was around three years ago. Not a good time for me.’

I stayed silent, remembering. It had been hard enough for me to accept Moira’s death. For Maggie, it must have been a waking nightmare. I waited without impatience for her to fast forward from the worst days of her life. Some things even I’m sensitive to. After a few moments, she stopped massaging her forehead and tuned back in to the here and now. ‘I don’t know if I ever knew the exact details, but I certainly don’t remember them now. I’ve got a feeling it had something to do with Helen wanting kids and Sarah not. Whatever it was, it was serious. As far as I know, they never spoke again after the bust-up except through their lawyers. A mate of mine acted for Sarah and she said she’d never seen anything like it. It was as if they went from total love to total hatred overnight.’